y are content to lead a tranquil life
and to be carted about.

The little ones are very good; none moves, none seeks a quarrel with
his neighbours. Clinging together, they form a continuous drapery, a
shaggy ulster under which the mother becomes unrecognizable. Is it an
animal, a fluff of wool, a cluster of small seeds fastened to one
another? 'Tis impossible to tell at the first glance.

The equilibrium of this living blanket is not so firm but that falls
often occur, especially when the mother climbs from indoors and comes
to the threshold to let the little ones take the sun. The least brush
against the gallery unseats a part of the family. The mishap is not
serious. The Hen, fidgeting about her Chicks, looks for the strays,
calls them, gathers them together. The Lycosa knows not these maternal
alarms. Impassively, she leaves those who drop off to manage their own
difficulty, which they do with wonderful quickness. Commend me to those
youngsters for getting up without whining, dusting themselves and
resuming their seat in the saddle! The unhorsed ones promptly find a
leg of the mother, the usual climbing-pole; they swarm up it as fast as
they can and recover their places on the bearer's back. The living bark
of animals is reconstructed in the twinkling of an eye.

To speak here of mother-love were, I think, extravagant. The Lycosa's
affection for her offspring hardly surpasses that of the plant, which
is unacquainted with any tender feeling and nevertheless bestows the
nicest and most delicate care upon its seeds. The animal, in many
cases, knows no other sense of motherhood. What cares the Lycosa for
her brood! She accepts another's as readily as her own; she is
satisfied so long as her back is burdened with a swarming crowd,
whether it issue from her ovaries or elsewhere. There is no question
here of real maternal affection.

I have described elsewhere the prowess of the Copris watching over
cells that are not her handiwork and do not contain her offspring. With
a zeal which even the additional labour laid upon her does not easily
weary, she removes the mildew from the alien dung-balls, which far
exceed the regular nests in number; she gently scrapes and polishes and
repairs them; she listens attentively and enquires by ear into each
nurseling's progress. Her real collection could not receive greater
care. Her own family or another's: it is all one to her.

The Lycosa is equally indifferent. I take a hair-penci